


they say life begins again after the last leaf falls

by Catherines_Collections



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anxiety, Autumn, Connor Deserves Happiness, Depression, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Seasonal, So do all of them, So does Evan, Suicidal Thoughts, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, like I didn't know i could write fluff nervermind this much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 00:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12287916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catherines_Collections/pseuds/Catherines_Collections
Summary: The texts turn into the constant of lunch in the back of library together, turn into week nights at Evan’s, turn into spending his Saturdays exploring an old apple orchard with Connor Murphy.Winter turns to Spring, turns to Summer, turns to Fall.(Evan’s beginning to understand why they call it that.)Or, the fix-it-fic in which everything happens late, everyone lives, and fall is the season everything begins in.





	they say life begins again after the last leaf falls

**Author's Note:**

> I think this may be the prettiest thing I've ever written.  
> Or at least the most aesthetically pleasing.
> 
> I literally wrote this instead of sleeping. Based off of a prompt request given by @zannatinuviel for 'something DEH involving vanilla, pine needles, flannel, and lavender.'
> 
> I think I did pretty good on this, really! I wrote it in two days, so!
> 
> Anyway, I own nothing but the title - sadly - but I hope you enjoy!

He thinks it starts in October.

Near the beginning, when the leaves are still hanging from the trees - albeit just barely, swaying like they want nothing more than to fall, to fly – and the cool breezes that leave a distant chill in the air have just begun.

It is near the beginning of October, between the changing of the seasons and how other doors are opened through it, that something between two too broken boys transforms.

.

“How’d you break your arm?” a voice behind Evan starts, and his heart beat quickens when he sees Connor Murphy’s standing beside him.

“Oh, um,” Evan stumbles, because he’s never spoken to Connor Murphy before and all he’s heard are Jared’s taunts and Connor’s shouts in the hallways, “um sorry-I, um.”

His thoughts race and then he’s blurting, “I fell out of a tree.” Feeling the blush sweep over him immediately after.

Connor’s lips curve, “That’s the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

Evan opens his mouth, but nothing really comes out besides a stuttered, “Ye-eah.”

Connor hums, “No one’s signed your cast.”

And Evan expects him to make a joke about it, about how alone he is, and how there’s probably a good reason the freak with the stutter doesn’t have any friends.

But Connor doesn’t say anything further, simply pulls out a sharpie from his back pocket with one hand, and uses the other to pull Evan’s cast closer.

“There. Now we can both pretend to have friends,” Connor says, pulling his arm away along with the sharpie and smiling. It’s sharp and cruel humored, and there’s something hiding in the corner of Connor’s smile when he speaks that stirs something in Evan. That reminds him of something a little too close to home.

And maybe it’s the fading colors trees outside. Maybe it’s the way the breeze sweeps up everything in its passing and causes the branches to beat against the windows; maybe it’s the change in seasons. Maybe he’s tired of how Jared treats him like a burden and how Zoe never notices and Alana talks but never really says anything. Maybe he just wants someone to notice: maybe he just wants someone to care.

Maybe it’s how he sometimes still thinks about his job over the summer and that tree and the forest, and he has an idea of why he’s only ever seen Connor Murphy wear long sleeves.

Something in the air is changing.

“Um, we-e could be, if you wanted to,” he says, mind racing and heart beat slamming against his chest, “Friends! That is.”

Connor looks at him like he’s insane, and Evan’s waiting for the imminent rejection – because Connor Murphy would never want to be his friend anyway, why would he? No one else does, and Evan can’t keep a conversation, can’t keep his Mom happy or Dad around, and the closest he’s ever been to someone is an excuse to use their parent’s money for car insurance - but the sharp edges of his smile have been replaced with something, not necessarily soft, but softer.

“Sure,” Connor shrugs, “why the fuck not, right?”

Evan nods absentmindedly, looking at the dark bags under Connor’s eyes and wondering how they compare to his, “Right, s-ure.”

Connor starts to walk for the door, but turns to shout over his shoulder, “See you at lunch, Hansen!”

And it’s strange how Evan smiles at the shout rather than wanting to dissolve into the ground at the stares that follow it. It’s foreign, new, but not unwelcomed.

Connor Murphy leaves the scent of pine needles in his wake.

Evan takes it as a sign.

.

Connor sits with him in the library during lunch.

Jared doesn’t come looking and Alana doesn’t approach and Zoe never even knew enough about him to even think anything of it. If anything, she’d come looking for Connor.

He does his homework at the back table of the library while Connor reads next to him.

They both sneak pieces of their sandwiches from beneath the table, like it’s a secret: like it’s their secret.

Evan thinks it’s the first time he’s ever had someone to share a secret with.

The library smells like lavender and he thinks the librarian must have turned the heat on going by the way the windows have begun to fog at the edges, contrasting the cool air from beyond the glass.

The wind blows outside and a branch knocks against the window as a flurry of multi-colored leaves fly past.

Evan watches.

When he glances over to Connor, he sees he is too.

A secret, he thinks, our secret.

Connor waves goodbye to him after the bell rings.

.

There’s a piece of paper being shoved in his face and Evan’s flinching back, murmuring, “Wha-at is that?” until he sees it’s Connor behind him, and he relaxes a fragment.

Connor shrugs and offers the paper again. Evan takes it. Connor grins.

“It’s my phone number. Now we can text each other and shit, like real friends do.”

Evan tries to think outside of all the text he’s sent his mom and all the spam hardly understand messages Jared’s sent him through the years, and stares at the paper in his hands.

Blinks.

Glances back at the grinning boy in front of him.

And he nods, “Yeah,” he murmurs, “like real friends do.”

Connor smirks and turns to leave, and Evan doesn’t know what it is – if it was the corners of his smile, or the pine needles, or the way the branch hit the window, or _secret secret secret_ – that has him blurting out: “I’l-l see you tomorrow, right?”

He watches as Connor freezes for a moment, before he slowly turns back towards Evan, and just- looks at him. Actually looks at him, like he might really be seeing him for the first time. Something sinks in Evan’s gut, and something squeezes in his chest.

Connor’s response is – too – slow, “Yeah,” he says, eyes and voice softening as he watches Evan grasp the straps of his bookbag tighter, “yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow, Hansen.”

Connor waves goodbye, Evan waves back.

Evan intends to hold him to his word.

.

He sends the text on the bus.

Jared got off a stop ago, and all the other kids around are too loud, but he types the words with shaky hands and reminds himself to do the breathing exercises Dr. Sherman taught him. He reads over it five times before he sends it.

_hi, it’s Evan._

Simple and factual and done.

He doesn’t expect an immediate response, and so he jumps when his phone vibrates.

 _Hey,_ the text reads.

Somehow, it’s enough.

.

It’s not until the end of the day that he remembers his cast. He gets off the bus and locks the front door behind him before collapsing on the couch.

When he looks down at his cast he sees Connor written in big bold lettering.

Something obvious, something fighting to be remembered, something real.

For the first time since the beginning of senior year, his mind doesn’t wonder back to the tree.

.

Evan forgets and skips his letter for the day.

Dr. Sherman won’t mind he figures, overcome by _something_ and unable to move, after he’s told him he’s made a new friend.

Not too much, anyway.

.

The first time Connor takes him to the orchard is after a week of being friends and starts with a mysterious text telling him to meet Connor in the parking lot after school.

He arrives to Connor leaning against his car, smoking, head tilted back and long curls falling against his back.

He coughs, the moment is broken, and Connor turns to him. Lips forming not quite a smile.

“Come on,” Connor says, nodding to the car and getting into the driver’s seat. Evan approaches the passengers with caution.

“Where are we going?” Evan asks, blushing when Connor scoffs.

“It’s a surprise,” Connor says, voice dripping something cold.

Evan gets in the car. Connor slams on the gas.

“When was the last time you ate?” Connor asks, hands gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. Evan remembers that he had texted Connor and told him he wouldn’t be at the library due to an extended test. He missed lunch. His stomach growls, Connor glances over unamused, and he feels his cheeks heat.

“Br-reakfast,” he gets out and Connor sighs. They stop for ice cream, Connor forces Evan to let him pay.

They get back into the car and drive another twenty minutes before Connor stops in front of an abandon orchard.

“What’s this?” Evan asks, jumping when Connor slams the door behind him.

“An apple orchard,” Connor says shortly, motioning for Evan to follow him. He does.

They end up under the biggest apple tree they can find, eating ice cream and leaning against the trunk. Every once in a while, Connor’s shoulder will brush against his, and something in his chest flutters.

 They sit and watch the leaves fall and drift until the sun goes down and Connor leads Evan back to his car.

“That was nice,” Connor says, hands on the wheel, eyes straight ahead, “we should do it again.”

Something in Evan’s chest flutters at the idea.

“Yea-h,” he says, nodding, “we definitely should.”

Connor drops him off at home, and graces him with what looks to be the first smile he’s had all day. It’s soft and gentle, and everything people think Connor’s not, and something in Evan begins to warm.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Connor shouts as he pulls out of the driveway.

Evan laughs, nods, and waves goodbye until Connor Murphy’s car is out of sight.

.

The text turns into the constant of lunch in the back of library together, turns into week nights at Evan’s, turns into spending his Saturdays exploring an old apple orchard with Connor Murphy.

Winter turns to Spring, turns to Summer, turns to Fall.

(Evan’s beginning to understand why they call it that.)

.

He was right.

Dr. Sherman didn’t mind that he skipped the letter when he had a new friend to take its place.

“Still work on them, Evan,” Dr. Sherman says as Evan begins to pack up, a smile pulls at Dr. Sherman’s face, “I am very happy for you.”

Evan stutters out a thank you and walks out the door. When he gets to the main office, Connor’s sitting in a chair: waiting for him.

He spots Evan and stands, stretches, and straightens.

“You ready?”

Evan can’t remember the last time someone waited for him after his appointment.

“Yeah,” Evan says softly.

Connor offers him a smile. Evan smiles back.

.

There are always bad days, this one just happens to be Evan’s.

He doesn’t know what Connor wants, dragging him out to the orchard on a late Saturday evening, and so he asks him. But then Connor doesn’t interrupt and Evan keeps talking and eventually everything he’s been trying to keep inside leaks from his words out into the world.

“I-I’m just a disappointment,” he starts, anger and sadness and the image of the tree, but push it down, “a-and I’m not good enough. An-and I k-know it because my dad-d knows it; my mom knows it, but she’s too-o nice to say it.” He takes a breath. Takes another one. Counts to ten, breathe.

Evan hears as Connor takes another drag next to him, blowing the opposite way because he knows Evan doesn’t like the smell of smoke on him.

“I think,” Evan whispers, and he doesn’t notice he’s rubbing over the scar on his arm until he applies too much pressure, “I just want to disappear.”

Connor breathes out, and Evan doesn’t look at him, too afraid of what he’ll see, and then Connor’s speaking.

“I’d miss you.”

Evan blinks past the tears he refuses to let fall, and turns his head to Connor, “What?”

Connor sits up and turns towards him and suddenly his stare is piercing and Evan feels seen through.

“I. Would. Miss. You.”

He pulls Evan in for a hug, and neither of them think anything of it when Evan mostly end up in Connor’s lap, releasing all the tears he had been trying to hold back.

There is no sound around them besides Evan crying and his sniffles when he tries to stop.

There’s a few moments of silence, and then-

“I didn’t fall,” Evan murmurs, face still buried in Connor’s shoulder, arms wrapped around him too tight, and the words are just pouring out of him before he can think them through, “I didn’t fall, Connor, I didn’t fall from that tree when I broke my arm. I let go.”

There is silence, and then Connor’s arms are tightening around him.

“Okay,” Connor says, voice nearly breaking, “I- I would miss you, Evan.”

Evan sobs again. Connor continues, voice shaking in a way Evan’s never heard before.

“I tried to kill myself at the beginning of the year.” His voice cracks, “Zoe found me.”

Evan pulls him as close as he can, and that’s all they are in that moment: two too broken boys trying so hard to keep each other, with no chances of ever letting go.

“I’d miss you, Connor,” Evan sobs, and he feels Connor’s body convulse as his own tears starts to flow and leak onto Evan’s shirt where Connor has buried his face in Evan’s neck, “I would miss you so much.”

They stay like that. Curled up and crying and confessing until their eyes are red and voices are worn, and Connor finally drags them back to his car.

When he goes to drop Evan off, Evan proposes he stay the night.

Connor accepts.

It’s the first of many nights like this.

.

Technically, it starts in August: the first day of school, the first day of the rest of their lives.

The day Connor Murphy stays home, sick. The day Zoe Murphy finds him bleeding out in their bathtub because she decided to skip third period, and calls nine-one-one. The day he’s moved to the hospital until he’s in stable enough condition to be moved to rehab the next week.

Evan – no one – sees him until mid-September, but even then, his attendance of school is scarce.

It’s late September early October when Connor comes back. It’s late September early October when he runs into Evan and signs his cast.

It’s somewhere between late September and early October that something begins.

It’s in fall, between the scattered leaves and dying branches and too many empty things, that something blooms.

(Later, Connor will joke about ignoring the guidelines of the seasons. Evan will watch his smile grow and pray it never stops.)

.

When he gets his cast removed, Connor’s in the room with him.

Replacing the bolded name with the physical embodiment.

They get ice cream after.

Evan didn’t know anything could feel like this.

.

Connor says he smells like vanilla. Evan can’t help but laugh.

“You smell like sugar cookies almost, but not too sweet? It’s hard to explain, whatever. You get it.”

Evan just laughs and assures Connor that no, he definitely does not get it, and laughs harder when Connor’s lips turn down into a huffy pout.

The breeze picks up and Connor’s pout transforms into a frown when he sees Evan shiver.

“Here,” Connor says, untying the gray flannel shirt from around his waist and handing it over to Evan, “use this.”

Evan murmurs his thanks as he sinks into the shirt, and then moves closer to where Connor is lying up against the tree. Strictly for warmth, he says. Connor giggles. Evan decides it’s a sound he wants to hear forever.

They sit under an apple tree at the orchard Connor always takes them to for what must be hours going by the sun setting, but feels like minutes.

Evan never wants to leave.

He looks to his left and sees the last of the sun set falling over Connor’s face, and how peaceful the boy looks as he tilts his head back and closes his eyes.

A few minutes later, Connor’s head falls onto his shoulder as the watch the rest of the sunlight fade.

Evan wonders if anything has ever been this good before.

He wonders if he gets to keep it.

.

They’re first kiss is under the same apple tree they always sit under in the orchard, surrounded by fallen apples and leaves.

The first thing Connor says when they break apart is: “We should make caramel apples.” And he’s grinning wide and toothy and his eyes are sparkling and how could Evan ever say no to this beautiful boy.

Evan giggles, and Connor giggles and they collect as many apples as they can carry back to Connor’s car.

They spend the rest of the evening searching for instructions on how to make the apples in Evan’s kitchen, and then making them.

Connor says Evan taste just as sweet even after eating half a caramel apple, Evan doesn’t let him say any more than that.

.

Fall has a way of changing things. Evan wonders how he’s never noticed before.

.

“You smell like pine needles,” Evan confesses to him one night. Cynthia and Larry are out for the weekend and Zoe is at a jazz concert with Alana.

It’s been a bad day for both, but mostly for Connor. Luckily, it’s fall break so he didn’t miss any school from lying in bed.

(He told Connor he would have stayed even if it did mean he’d have to skip.)

Evan sits on one side of his bed, brushing a hand gently over Connor’s knuckles, and watching Connor’s face as he stares up at the ceiling: eyes empty, unresponsive.

Something in Evan breaks. So he tries again.

“You told me, a few weeks ago at the orchard, that I smelt like vanilla,” he smiles and rubes a thumb into the side of Connor’s hand, “which I still don’t understand, but anyway. You told me what smell I reminded you of and I never had a chance to return the favor.”

He squeezes Connor’s hand, and mentally wills him to look at him. He doesn’t. Evan gets it: they both have bad days. Connor’s just always seem to hurt worse.

“You smell like pine needles. Like, the forest trails I used to hike, and um, the it’s really wonderful, but really strange because you’re never actually outside and I just,” he trails off, not sure where else to go with his speech.

“I’m here, Connor,” Evan whispers, pulling himself closer so that he can brush some Connor’s long dark curls from in front of his eyes, “I’m just, here.”

When he feels slight pressure grasping his hand, he almost sobs.

.

They’ve saved each other’s lives. It’s not something they have to say; it’s something they both already know.

Connor’s there when Evan needs him, and Evan’s there when Connor needs him.

They both have bad days, have bad times, have hard times, but they also have each other. They have somebody willing to listen, someone they know who cares. Someone they both know is never a burden.

They both get it; both understand, to an extent.

Evan understand that sometimes he just can’t help Connor, and that sitting at Connor’s bedside on the days when he just can’t bring himself to move is all he can do. He understands that Connor gets angry, gets furious, and that talking it out helps sometimes. Others, Connor just needs to be alone.

It’s hard, but he always cherishes the reassuring text Connor sends him the next day.

Connor understands that sometimes Evan can’t talk for a while. That there will be days where he’s too afraid to venture outside of his house, and Connor has to reassure him that it’s okay, and that he’s here. Connor gets that somedays Evan likes to talk about trees – loves how his eyes light up and his smile widens – and somedays he likes to talk about the tree, and how he’s been thinking about it too much lately.

They both make it clear they would both be missed. They both make it clear they are loved and cared for.

They love each other, Evan knows, watching Connor smile or sleep or laugh or cry.

They love each other, and sometimes – he thinks of the forest and waiting for someone to find him and how nobody did; about how Connor would now, about how he would never do that to Connor or Heidi or anyone – it’s enough.

Sometimes, Connor’s laugh and smile and the way he tells Evan stories and then listens to Evan’s like he’s actually intrigued, having each other is enough.

.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Connor says, and there’s no sign of hesitance or take back, just Connor’ strong voice being carried through the night.

They’re sitting on top of Connor’s car near the orchard, watching the stars. Evan’s bundled up in one of Connor’s hoodies, head in his lap as Connor runs a hand through his hair. Evan reaches for his other hand, and squeezes.

“I don’t think I’d be alive without you,” Connor continues, and Evan pulls himself up to stare into Connor’s eyes, sees how they reflect the stars above and how the moonlight illuminates his face and gets tangled in his hair.

“Connor Murphy,” Evan starts, leaning forward to take Connor’s face in his hands, running a thumb over a cheekbone, “you are also the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I am very glad you are alive.”

When Connor leans in Evan could swear he still sees star in his air.

The autumn breeze carries their words out among the stars, and Evan wonders – between Connor’s warm lips, careful embrace, delicate heart, and gentle hands - if that means they’ll live on forever.

He holds Connor like he’s a life line – which, he supposes he is, has always been – and half-wishes their words would get carried back to the orchard, to the library, to the ice cream parlor, to every place Connor ever left his mark: to every place they’ve ever gone to together.

He holds onto Connor, and when he takes a breath he gets a whiff of pine needles.  

“I love you,” Evan murmurs when they break away. Connor brushes his hair back and gives him a soft smile that has Evan’s stomach doing flips.

“I love you,” Connor whispers.

And that’s enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and Kudos are much appreciated and I am rhymesofblue on tumblr if you want to talk to me about my fics and this musical!


End file.
